


for a fact

by TimelessSkyline



Category: EOS 10 (Podcast)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:21:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6073849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimelessSkyline/pseuds/TimelessSkyline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akmazian the (ex) Destroyer flirts with Dr. Ryan Dalias because he knows he can’t have him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for a fact

Akmazian the (ex) Destroyer flirts with Dr. Ryan Dalias because he knows he can’t have him. He knows that for a fact, and he’s pretty sure Ryan knows it too, which was probably why the good doctor keeps him at arm’s length, even after he’s proven innocent of galactic terrorism.

That’s why, after a particularly long day of making horrid innuendos and nearly getting blown up – deal gone south, but that’s how the business works – Akmazian is horrified when Ryan suddenly throws down his medical chart with a surprising amount of vehemence and snaps, “Alright, fine, you want to go to dinner? Let’s go to fucking dinner!”

It’s a date.

Not right away, of course not. First Akmazian has to make sure the ringing in his ears stops and all the shrapnel has been picked out of his side, and so on and so forth, it’s become so routine by now that no one thinks twice when they see an exonerated terrorist bleeding out from somewhere in the med bay. Exonerated. God, he loves that word.

Right. Date. Panic.

They set the day, pick the place (the main cafeteria for starters, Ryan’s idea), snag a side table away from the usual hubbub, and they have lunch.

It goes ridiculously well, just as Akmazian feared. He feared so because, despite the fact that he did not destroy an entire star system and end billions of lives and whatnot, he’s still done things. Things that were necessary for him to survive, because if _they_ were going to pin that fucking title to his name, then he was damn well going to make use of it to garner followers and build a “business” and become so notorious and gather information so he could prove his innocence.

Which he did.

A lot of backs got stepped on along the way. Most were shattered. He thought Ryan knew this.

Obviously he doesn’t, though, because they go on another date. And another. And another. Akmazian puts on a new mask that mixes with truth, one that conveys his affection, roguishness, and charm, one that is so genuine, that hides the guilt and the _shame_ , because Dr. Dalias saves lives, and he only destroys them.

When their next date ends with a first kiss outside Ryan’s quarters (call Akmazia old-fashioned to his face, and he’ll put a bullet through your skull), he knows he’s fucked. He can’t pull back, break the doctor’s heart. He’d never forgive himself. Ruining this would be worse than anything he’s done over the years.

It only goes downhill from there. The kisses become longer and tender. Ryan starts inviting him in for nightcaps. He starts to join the gang for lunch regularly. He and Jane crack inappropriate jokes. He and Dr. Urvidian sling dry verbal wit at each other like the old pros they are. He and Levi discuss their favorite blacklisted artifacts and where one might hypothetically procure them. He and the Interface play chess, go, pente and other strategy games, all the while snarking back and forth. He and Ryan…he and Ryan…

He’d shoot himself out the airlock if it wouldn’t break Ryan’s heart. It would though, that’s the awful part. The good doctor is so sweet on him; not as much as Akmazian is on him, but nearly there.

He loves it. He hates it. He revels in the feeling. Cowers too, because he is filth, and his hands are stained with so much blood. You don’t have to destroy billions to feel like that. Only a couple thousand or so. Sometimes only a handful.

He’s way past a handful.

The progression tears him apart and then, one night, the nightcap and making out on the bed turn into no clothes and fumbling for condoms, lube. Akmazian lets Ryan take him, begs for it even. At least Ryan will be able to wash off the filth later, but if Akmazian takes _him_ —no, he won’t, he can’t.

It feels so good, too good. Ryan’s breath is sweet and his skin tastes delicious and the friction and the burn have him coming far sooner than he’s proud to admit – he’d like to say it’s been a while, but he’s only been unconsciously maintaining a vow of celibacy since the day they met.

Ryan keeps going, and Akmazian sinks into the mattress, angling his hips to give him better access and feeling all the more guilty for enjoying it, for enabling it. He wants this, but he doesn’t want Ryan to be tainted – too late, he’s already stained. Already involved with him, this piece of scum.

Life goes on.

The sex tends to go one way: Ryan tops. Always. Doesn’t seem to mind at all, doesn’t ask every time Akmazian offers himself up. They’ll exchange blowjobs and the occasional rimming is a pleasant surprise a few times, and rutting against one another like teens is always an option, and then they both make sure they’re clean and skin to skin is like nirvana, but Akmazian has already promised himself that he can’t do _that_. He can live with the guilt if it stays like this. It’s all fine.

Until it isn’t.

Ryan asks, one night, not when they’re doing anything, but when they’re just lying there, feeling. Asks, “Why don’t you ever want to fuck me? I mean, like you in me?” Just an innocent question. “Not that I’m complaining. Promise you that. But, I mean—”

“I like the feeling of you in me,” Akmazian covers smoothly, panicking inside. This is the moment he dreaded. “Nothin’ compares.”

Ryan says “okay” like it’s nothing, but a few minutes later, says quickly, “But if you ever want to try, I mean, I’d be okay – up for it, if you know what I mean.”

God, he’s been picking up on that innuendo then. Great. Yet another bullet point on the list of ways Akmazian’s a bad influence.

“Would you want to?” Akmazian asks cautiously. Dreading.

“…Yeah. I would, I really would.” A pause. “Would you?”

“Yes,” he says, and hates himself because he means it, goddamn it, and then they’re kissing and skin is sliding and it’s so hot and he’s prepping and positioning himself, and then he sinks into the tight heat, _fuck_ —

Ryan grips the sides of his face, hard, bringing him out of his head. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

Fingers brush his cheeks. Damp. “You’re crying.” Ryan’s eyes widen. “Akmazian, this isn’t—you don’t have to, I’d never force you—”

His erection goes to its grave. This is not something he ever thought he’d have to talk about. He pulls out – useless – and sits on the edge of the bed, catching his breath, trying to dry his eyes. He focuses on the stars outside the window, inches his toes into the dim shaft of light on the floor.

Lips between his shoulders. He doesn’t deserve this kind of tenderness. It’s misplaced.

“Talk to me,” Ryan says, and he’s never been able to say no to Ryan, even when he has said no, so he talks.

It’s more like word vomit, actually, or a lot of blubbering, hyperventilating, and overwhelming, soul crushing guilt – it just waterfalls from his mouth, but he doesn’t quite remember what he says because sometime later, he comes back to full awareness, clinging to a pillow, a good foot of space between him and Ryan.

That foot of space breaks his heart. He doesn’t make a sound though.

Ryan asks lowly in the near darkness, “Is that what you think? What you think of yourself? What you think of me?”

“I…what?”

“You think you’re some kind of—of fallen angel or some shit like that? And that I’m too pure for you, is that it?”

“I—”

“You’ve killed people, I know,” Ryan snaps. Akmazian flinches. He never flinches. “You— _God_ , I…” He falls silent.

There’s a panic attack lurking in the back of Akmazian’s throat, he can feel it. He just needs to be far away from Ryan when it happens. He won’t guilt him into…into anything. Never.

The stars drift on.

And then, after that long, terrifying silence, Ryan slings an arm over him and yanks him close. There are tears on his face, Akmazian can feel them in the crook of his neck. The hands that hold him squeeze harder and harder until it hurts, but it’s a good kind of hurt, and he squeezes back, a little bit shocked. It hits him: Ryan knows – has always known – that he can’t justify everything Akmazian has done, but he somehow still wants him. Still loves him.

Love. How the hell he knows it’s love, he can’t explain, but it is. Wordless, but there.

He trembles, and as he sinks into Ryan’s embrace, he realizes that all he wanted to be sure of was that he had his forgiveness. It doesn’t matter if the rest of the galaxy forgives him. Fuck that. It’s this man right here, has always been this man since he dropped trou in that cold cargo bay just so his—

“It wasn’t going to explode,” Ryan murmurs wetly, with exasperated amusement.

“Said that aloud, did I, darlin’?” Akmazian sighs, pressing a kiss to his head.

Ryan tilts his face up so the starlight catches his eyes, makes them glisten. Their lips meet slowly and move with a languid sureness that this is where they need to be right now. Closer and closer they cling, and then the heat comes, and this time, _this time_ when Akmazian presses into him, it’s transcendent. Glorious. Home.

“I…” he begins, unsure of how to finish.

“Yes,” Ryan breathes, shifting, encouraging him. “Yes.”

Akmazian swallows any declarations of love and snaps his hips forward. Ryan writhes beneath him not long after, and is soon a pretty little mess. The night is still young, technically. They make use of it.

#

Akmazian the (ex) Destroyer flirts with Dr. Ryan Dalias because he has him. Has his heart, his trust, his body, everything. He flirts because he loves the blush that rises to Ryan’s ears when they’re with friends, because they both enjoy it, because he doesn’t want anyone aboard EOS 10 getting any ideas about stealing him – he flirts because he loves _Ryan_.

He knows that for a fact, and he’s pretty sure Ryan knows that too. He’s also pretty sure that the feeling is entirely mutual.


End file.
